There’s a tragic cycle of parenting that carries from generation to generation that must be broken. It must stop with ours. It must stop now. I’m not talking about spanking, or free-will parenting, or planting your child in front of the tube to watch Sponge Bob while you sneak to the patio to down a glass of wine. I’m talking about the “One Day I Hope You Have a Child Just Like You” curse.
I have no idea who Rolan is, but he obviously has two teen crumb snatchers since this is his 2nd curse.
You know your parents said it to you, and if you’ve been blessed with a child that has reached their adolescent phase, you know you’ve at least wanted to cast it upon them. Yes, “The Curse” works but I believe the electric chair is a more humane punishment.
In the last week, I have seen “The Curse” manifest in the crumb snatchers and it isn’t a pretty sight. I know I wasn’t a piece of cake as a teenager, and I doubt Chief Money Maker was either, but did we really deserve “The Curse?” I think not!
Last night, Sweet Pea asked for my help getting her cartilage earring back in. Since I’m not a spring chicken anymore my eyesight is a little off. Like, “Mama that’s drainage ditch, not a highway exit” off. I couldn’t see the hole in her ear. So in her eyes, I suddenly became a horrible mother.
The next thing I know, Sweet Pea is in tears and throwing a tantrum. I yelled, “I hate you,” because we never fight and I forgot that the rules of Teenagedom state that she is supposed to yell that phrase at me. Later, we talked about it and she said, “I’m sorry Mama. Sometimes I just get so frustrated that I take it out on those around me. I’m just like you.” Before I could open my mouth to protest, she cut me a look and said, “You know it’s true.” Yeah, it is.
Sweet Pea has more hair than this drawing…and she’s a girl.
I also witnessed “The Curse” with G-Bear and Chief Money Maker as they father-son bonded over a woodworking project I requested for flower boxes. In between patient instructions and hammered-thumb expletives, I watched Chief Money Maker’s frustration grow. When G-Bear insisted on “doing it his way” Chief Money Maker sat back and allowed G-Bear to split the wood on the project.
Chief yelled, “Oooh, Mama Bread Baker is gonna be maaaad.” But I digress. Then he said, “I told you. But you’re so stubborn and hard-headed you had to do it your way.” G-Bear said—wait for it—“Dad, I’m just like you.” Before Chief could open his mouth to protest, I cut him a look and said, “You know it’s true.”
As you can see, “The Curse” works, although the damage doesn’t manifest until years later. I can envision our parents sitting around in their clean living rooms with their stocked pantries without the sounds of door-slamming or exclamations of “You just don’t understand!” They’re looking at their watches and smiling at one another. “Honey, it’s 2012. The Curse should have kicked in by now.”
I might be over forty, but I still say this is child abuse!
© 2012 CThacker
